Nathan wants nothing to do with the birth (“I just want to be out of the house!”), which is ironic, because it was seeing him separated from Cora by a wall of glass that made me want to not do a hospital birth again. Just because he wasn’t 16, he wasn’t allowed to come and meet, see, and hold his brand new baby sister. Of all the stupid %##@! rules… How ridiculously arbitrary is that?

What I envision instead: Baby’s siblings allowed to be present (or not!) for the birth… Cora playing in the birthing pool with me, asking “What’doing?” and checking out the birthed placenta. Nathan going to see a movie with grandparents and coming home to hold and rock his littlest brother.

2. Michael.

Husbands seem to be second-hand citizens in a tight-on-space hospital. He was always present in the first birth, but actual involvement was pretty limited to hand-holding and verbal encouragement. Then, after the birth, he has to go home? Two nights in a row? Are you kidding me??

What I envision instead: Michael beside me in the pool, or me hugging him as I stand and sway through a contraction. Him catching the baby as it emerges and us cuddling in bed after: newborn snuggled between us and the older kids piled on top.

3. Comfort & Care

I’m not going to dance around the point — giving at birth just sounds so much more enjoyable than in a hospital. I don’t have to scramble to put clothes into a bag and drive through the cold at any hour of the day so I can filled out reams of paperwork and sit uncomfortably in a chair to wait among a crowd of strangers under fluorescent lights for the attention of an overworked staff member who only knows me by the marks on a chart.

Also, pre-natal care. The first time I went to see Dr. A, I sat in his waiting room for TWO HOURS before he saw me. At which point, he examined me for 10 minutes and left. The first time I went to see my midwife, I also sat for two hours — on her sofa, talking about me and my pregnancy and my concerns — and received plenty of personalized care. At the birth, I will have the undivided attention of three women (who have all had their own homebirths) attending to me and the baby.

What I envision: Experiencing my first contractions and taking a walk around the property with Michael, keeping track of duration and timing. Calling the midwife and letting her know how I’m progressing so she and her assistants can come to my home where I have an indoor jacuzzi (thanks to the Argenbrights!!) filled with warm water, jets, and soothing essential oils. My family and friends coming in to check on me and offer me encouragement in a casual way, maybe stopping to chat, or simply give me a hug. Playing my “Inspiration” playlist at full blast or listening to the soothing voice of my Hypnobabies tapes. Bouncing on my ball or climbing into the tub or squatting in a doorway or holding onto Michael for dear life as I scream or cry, or laugh or sing.

I envision doing this My Way.

4. Inter-Connectedness.

Several years ago, Michael’s great-grandmother was ill and we were considering taking her into our home for her final days. I had to be okay with the fact that Death would be present in our home. And you know what? I welcomed it. Somehow, our migration to urban-life and modernity disconnected us from the two points where our present lives intersect with Eternity — all of our births and deaths occur outside of the home, in a sterile hospital, surrounded by strangers, connected by wires instead of prayers.

What I envision: A home that has sheltered Life in the Raw. Children who have experienced that life can be messy, but have found beauty in the blood.

5. Empowerment.

Because a doctor has years of medical training, we trust him to know better than us how to get a baby out safely and efficiently. And I’m sure that he knows exactly everything that could possibly go wrong and what to do in those situations. Unfortunately, what he does not have is a body that has been created to make humans, a body that has evolved with instinctual knowledge about how to bring life into the world. Don’t get me wrong — I love epidurals with the best of them, but I want to go head-to-head against the Curse of Eve… and WIN.

Any woman who has carried a child knows that it is a pivotal turning point in one’s concept of one’s self as Woman. Suddenly, “goddesses” make sense — we achieve the Divine. We are Givers of Life. This is my way of embracing that.

What I envision: Me standing fully in my power, trusting in the grace of God, knowing exactly what to do. Me listening to my body and my baby; reason and instinct united, moving in rhythm with the wisdom of the ages.

…I’m sure there are more reasons and clearer visions, but that’s a good start. 🙂

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3 Responses

I love this series! I’m so excited for you to enjoy a home birth. Mine was my hardest/longest labor, but I was so thankful to be in the comfort of my home, under the care of an incredibly experienced and compassionate midwife and in the arms of my beloved husband when Benjamin made his grand entrance into the world. Can’t wait to hear your story!

Since you put it out there on facebook, I figured you are inviting replies, so I thought I would respond. First, congratulations 🙂 I’m so excited for you and your little one, and I hope you have smooth delivery!

I want to start by saying that I fully support your decision to have a home birth – I think birth can and should be beautiful and natural, and that if you are able to give birth in the comfort of your own home, that is wonderful!

That being said, here are my thoughts/experiences on the issue.

1. You shouldn’t feel like you have to give a 3 part apology (in the original sense of the word) for your medical choices about YOUR body. I feel like it’s a problem that women need to justify or explain their birth choices. No one would feel entitled to give their opinion if you were getting your appendix out. Why does everyone suddenly feel like it’s OK to have an opinion on how you give birth? It’s really none of their business. Your baby, your body, your decision. If your doctor/midwife is ok with it, that’s all the permission you need. Maybe you just wrote this for personal reasons, to sort of explore your own mind and solidify your own choices, and if so, good for you. But part of me also feels like you are maybe answering to critics who think that your choice to have a home birth is crazy or irresponsible. If that is the case, you have permission to give 1000% less headspace to those opinions.

2. Because maybe you are defending your decision to have a home birth, you spent a lot of time in posts #1 & 2 criticizing medicalized births, and I really didn’t like that, because you are (maybe unintentionally) doing the exact same thing to me as other people are doing to you: criticizing other people’s medical decisions. Home birth might be an intimate, wonderful experience, and I really hope it is for you! But just because it’s what you prefer (for whatever reasons) doesn’t mean that all hospital births are inferior, or that they can’t also be intimate and wonderful.

It seems to me like some of your biggest problems with your first birth experience were that there were so many unneccesary medical interventions: you are an healthy young woman. It seems like your doctor induced you for her own convenience, which led to a cascade of other interventions that just were not necessary. That would make me really angry with my doctor, because it really shows a lack of respect for the patient and the baby. And again, if you put that in the context of any OTHER medical scenario it would be crazy! It would be like a doctor scheduling an appendectomy on a healthy patient because he didn’t want to be inconvenienced IF the patient ever developed appendicitis. Or a dentist extracting teeth because they might get cavities! CRAZY. No-one would stand for it.

That being said, sometimes people DO need medical interventions during birth, and if they do, their birth experiences should not be looked down on as ruined or inferior. Before the era of modern medicine, childbirth was the #1 cause of death for women. I had 2 medically necessary c-sections, and it’s very humbling for me to know that in both cases, I would have died in childbirth if not those medical interventions. My first c-section experience was a nightmare: it was invasive and dehumanizing, I was treated like a body and not a person, and my feelings and opinions were totally irrelevant to everyone involved. Yes, it saved my life, but I felt bullied, and demeaned and unimportant. My second c-section was exactly the opposite – despite the fact that I ended up having a surgical birth after a failed VBAC, I felt like they went above and beyond to treat me and my baby with dignity and respect, and to make it just as special for me as for a mom who was able to give birth vaginally. And I think that’s how it should be – I didn’t have the option of a home birth, but that doesn’t mean that my birth experience should be any less intimate or empowering. I made that life! How it gets out of me is just not as important as having EVERY birth, and every birth decision, treated with with respect.

I guess what I am trying to say is, in defending your own decision, don’t fall into the error or demoninzing other people’s decisions or circumstances. A birth is a birth, and though I totally respect your right to make your own decisions, it’s not really fair to other moms to put theirs down, don’t you agree?

and I did mean everything above in the most respectful way possible. Its hard to get all your thoughts together when you’ve got a crying baby and another kid going “are you done yet? how about now? how about now? NOW?” Sometimes I change my mind and want to trade them in at the zoo!